


Nu Kyr'adyc, Shi Taab'echaaj'la

by le_paquet_fou



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Afterlife, Platonic Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, aro/ace characters, kaminoans are horrible, little cadets, no beta we die like men, oh we get baby clones!, some fluff/comfort (?), tons of angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 08:54:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23968696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/le_paquet_fou/pseuds/le_paquet_fou
Summary: *DISCONTINUED*I'm also dropping this from the Story of a Brother universe/series since I feel it's stretched time frame doesn't really work for what I had in mind. I'm re-writing this for that series and will probably be taking a lot of the same dialogue and ideas from Cody's chapters.The afterlife in Star Wars is a strange one. Even after death, millions of clones are still filed through Kamino to either be cleared for combat in a never ending war or kept to study and test. Jedi are hoisted back into command positions, and the galaxy has never felt more chaotic. Trust is fragile, friends are few, and with everyone at their wit's end, it's only a matter of time before the reality of this war comes crashing down on everyone and sweeping away those with a loose foothold
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody & CT-7567 | Rex, CC-2224 | Cody & Obi-Wan Kenobi, CT-27-5555 | Fives | ARC-5555 & CT-7567 | Rex
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

He squinted into the blinding lights. He wasn’t expecting that _at all_. He had gone to bed in a dark room, calm and quiet and peaceful. Now he’s bombarded by sterile white, hauntingly familiar. He pushes himself up, shielding his still-adjusting eyes with his arm as he looks around the room. A small pit forms in his stomach as the realisation gradually sets in.

He thought he wouldn’t have to end up back here. He had fled, living on the run with two of his brothers. But now… now he’s here, the red and blue of a cadet’s uniform the only colour in this room. This empty, lifeless room. _Kamino_.

The panic is manageable. Maybe one of the only side effects from ‘living’ here that had a benefit. He takes a few deep breaths as he gets himself out of the bed, heading straight for a mirror. He has to see himself, ground himself in this uncertainty before he drowns in it.

He doesn’t meet a familiar face, though. At least, not one he’s seen in years. It’s undeniably him, if the horribly blond, now regulation length hair is any clue. And the face, so young. He looks like a child. He _is_ a child. What happened to him?

The hiss of a door snaps him from his reflection, and he stands at attention. It’s so deeply ingrained in him, he doesn’t even hesitate. He looks straight ahead as the tall lanky figure of a Kaminoan walks in and towers over him, looking at him and picking him apart.

“CT-7567. I see you are awake.” Large, dark eyes stare him down, but he refuses to flinch. “Come. You must have a medical examination before we can determine what to do with you.”

“Yes, sir.” Like a droid. The Kaminoan walks away, and he follows. He resists the urge to look around as they go down the long, bright halls of Kamino. He doesn’t try to look for a window to see the storms, or stop to listen to the calming sounds of the rain on the city. No, instead he quickly sinks back into being the perfect soldier that the Kaminoans used to think he was.

He’s taken to the medbay and told to sit down on a bed. He does as instructed. They look in his eyes, test his reflexes, check him over, then all except for one leaves. The questioning begins.

“CT-7567. Killed by Ahsoka Tano during Order 66, but many records suggest otherwise. Is that correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why?” A loaded question, said in such a calm and indifferent voice. He gulps, making sure the Kaminoan can’t notice. She mustn't be able to tell he’s afraid.

“I… ah, discovered it, the chip, that is. And, I didn’t want to kill my commander, so I took it out. And I escaped with her.”

“How did you discover it? And how did you know it could tell you to kill the Jedi?”

“Um… I… saw a medical scan. And I… ah, felt something was wrong with that. That it could, uh, tell me to do something I wouldn’t want to do. So I took it out.”

“You are a bad liar CT-7567. Tell me the truth.” He won’t get away. He knows it. He was always a terrible liar. Cody told him as such. And Fives. And anyone who knew him. The Kaminoans aren’t his friends, though. They won’t tolerate lying. Why did he think he could get away with it?

“A brother told me. He discovered it, looked into it, and told me in-” His voice catches. He swears he can feel Fives’ body in his lap. If he looks down, he’s sure he’ll see him too, with the hole from the blaster bolt still smoking. He pushes that thought away. “In his last breaths. I didn’t know what to make of it at first, but I know- _knew_ , him. That’s why I filed a grievance report, and why I tried to tell my commander before I lost control. She’s the one who took out my chip. We faked our deaths and escaped.” The memory of drawing his pistols on his friend and desperately trying to stay in control as he’s overwhelmed with the order to shoot her is still seared painfully in his mind. He tries to ignore the pain it brings back.

“And after all of that? What did you do with your life?”

“I lived on the run. I was always moving. At some point, I joined the rebellion.”

“Do you regret what you did?” The dark eyes pierce his soul, suffocating it. She’ll know if he lies, but the truth doesn’t help his case. He’s pinned. Helpless. He hasn’t felt that way since…

“No.”

“I see.” He sealed his fate. He’ll be lucky if he gets sent to maintenance. 99 was always nice to everyone, no matter how much they fumbled with their tasks or words. A good man. “Thank you, CT-7567. Lu Mas will take you back to your quarters as we look over this.” Another Kaminoan enters, and he nods to the doctor in front of him before sliding off the bed and following Lu Mas.

They walk back down the hallways, and he can’t help but look around this time. There’s nothing for him to see. He wishes there could have been something for him to see. Something more than the bright white walls of Kamino.

Lu Mas opens a door, and he walks back into the room. He turns back to the Kaminoan, who looks back with emotionless eyes, dissecting his very being to understand him. Because he’s defective. He knows it.

“Thank you for your cooperation, CT-7567. We will call you in three hours.” He nods as the door hisses shut.

“Rex,” he says under his breath, his fists clenching in frustration. “The name’s Rex.”


	2. Chapter 2

Those three hours were probably the longest Rex had ever felt. Each minute seemed to take a decade to pass. There was no one to talk to, no work to do. All he could do was sit and stare either at the wall or out the window at the stormy sea and torrential rain. He almost started talking when the door hissed open and Lu Mas walked in. Almost.

“CT-7567, come with me.” He nods and follows her silently. They walk back down the long, eerily silent halls.  _ Shouldn’t there be other cadets here? _ he wonders.  _ Shouldn’t I be in barracks with my batchers, or with other officers? _ He knows he won’t get answers to his questions from the Kaminoans, so he tucks them away. He’ll figure it out himself. Being able to do that is what got him onto the command track, after all.

A chill goes down his spine when he enters the medbay again. He scolds himself silently as he stands at attention, waiting for instruction. He shouldn’t be afraid. The doctor, he assumes, walks in, motioning for him to sit down. He does so quickly. Rex knows upsetting the Kaminoans, especially when in the position he’s in now, is a surefire way to get decommissioned.

“We have gone over your file, CT-7567, and added the details you provided for us when you went rogue.” The smooth voice does nothing to keep Rex from hearing a biting tone. “You have quite a history of defectiveness, starting from your last training mission. It’s only gotten worse from there. Decommissioning seems like the best option from here.” Of course. He wants to protest, but he knows he can’t. What was he expecting anyways? “However, we feel that there is still some use we can get from you.”

“What?” It slips past his lips before he can stop it. He looks at the large, blank eyes, stifling his fear.

“Your experiences can help us understand why some clones are… adverse to battle. If we study you, perhaps we will be able to stop them from reacting this way and continue on with the war. If you prove agreeable, we may even let you train with other cadets and progress with them until you are back to being battle ready. That should only take four years, seeing as you are currently six years old. Do you agree to this?” What choice does he have? He’s theirs again, his very self has just been wiped away by that offer.

“Yes sir.” If a Kaminoan could smile, this is as close to it as Rex has ever seen.

“Perfect. You will keep your current room; however, you will be sharing it with another defective clone. He is too troublesome to be left alone, and we believe you to be the only one he might listen to. We’ve made him considerably younger so that he does not cause us more trouble than he already has. Is that alright with you?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. We will begin testing in twelve hours. For now, you may take time to rest and get acquainted with the other clone. Lu Mas, you can take him away.”

“Yes, doctor.” Rex stands up and follows Lu Mas, yet again, back to his room. His mind is reeling with all of the information they dumped on him, wittingly or not is up for debate. He creates a mental list of all they told him as he’s led down the glaringly white halls, trying to understand what exactly is happening to him and his brothers.

One: ‘Defective’ clones are kept separate, no matter what. Nicer rooms, yes, but a fluffier pillow will be making up for something much worse than any training or tests.

Two: The Kaminoans can manipulate age. How, still unknown, but they are capable of it and can probably do it whenever they please to whatever brother they choose. Not good.

Three: Another brother, younger, too troublesome, doesn’t listen to anyone, already caused trouble, suggesting age change was later. Possible known brother?

When they get to the door, Rex stops short. He should have expected a smaller cadet, but stars, that’s a  _ tiny _ clone. He’s practically bouncing off the walls as a Kaminoan so clearly upset with having to deal with him keys in the code and releases him into the room. Rex peaks around the corner and into the room, watching the cadet run to a bed and start climbing onto it.

“CT-7567, this is the clone you will be with, CT-27-5555. He shouldn’t be too much of a problem, but tell us if he is and we can take care of him.” His mind stops. Fives. Fives is here. Fives is-

“CT-7567?”

“O-of course, sir. Not a problem.”

“Excellent.” And the Kaminoans leave. Rex trips over himself running into the room, groaning as the door hisses shut. There’s the familiar clatter of someone falling off of something they shouldn’t be on doing something they shouldn’t do, and Rex pushes himself up to see Fives giggling hysterically on the floor. Without thinking, he scoops him into his arms and sets him down on his lap to check over non-existent injuries.

“Hey, I’m not hurt.”

“Mhm, sure. Not buying that,  _ kih’vod _ ,” Rex says, forcing his voice to stay even and not betray the fact that he’s simultaneously bursting with joy and fighting off a deep-seeded grief that has reared its head again.

“I’m not little. I’m three!”

“And I’m six.” Fives stares up at him with wonder in his eyes.

“Wow. I guess I am little. Never seen anyone as old as you.” A pit forms in Rex’s stomach. Something is off.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Never really seen another brother, actually.”

“You don’t remember anyone else? Jesse, Kix, Echo?”

“Echo sounds familiar. Was he a brother too?”

Four: Kaminoans can tamper with memory. To what extent and whether it’s temporary are still to be seen.

“Your closest one.”

“Ooh, really? Will I get to see him again?”

“I don’t know…” The silence hangs heavy in the small room. It weighs Rex down and suffocates him. He’s happy to see Fives, beyond ecstatic, but it hurts so much. The Kaminoans made him a child. They made him a child because they  _ know _ if he were an adult, he would burn this place to the ground to save his brothers from them. Because that’s who Fives is. Knowing that they did this to him, that they removed everything Rex knows as Fives, makes him nauseous. Fives doesn’t deserve this, but there isn’t a damn thing Rex can do to change it. And that hurts him the most.

“Well, I guess I’ll be able to see him at some point. For now, I have you, and we’re brothers. That’s good, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Hey, why are you shaking? Are you cold?”

“No. No, just… I’m just…” Rex can’t find the words. His throat is aching from holding back tears, and there is so much being thrown at him that he can’t fully grasp anything being given to him. He’s so…

“Just what?”

“Tired. I’m just tired,  _ vod _ .”

“Oh. You can go to sleep, I won’t bother you.”

“It’s alright, I can-” Fives tackles Rex in a hug before he can finish his sentence. It’s the last thing that tips him over the edge and makes him lose it, as much as he’ll allow himself to. He wraps Fives in his arms and brings him close, refusing to let go. He shakes with the effort to not sob at the familiar warmth of a brother after going so long without it, just squeezing Fives tighter and hoping that will make up for the decades of being so cold.

He lets go with a trembling sigh and leans against the wall, staring at the ceiling so the tears won’t fall. He has to be strong; he can’t fail Fives by being weak. Not when he’s already failed so many brothers, left them behind on battlefields strewn across the galaxy because of his choices, or lack thereof. How many times has he failed because he was hesitant, because he wasn’t strong enough? He should have done more, should have brought attention to the chips when Fives had been killed, should have taken out his own before he turned against a friend with tears in his eyes. So much he should have done, yet didn’t.

“Uh, goodnight, um… what’s your name?”

“Rex.”

“Rex. Got it. Goodnight Rex!”

“‘Night,  _ vod _ .”

Five: Fives is here. Take care of him, live for him, die for him. Be strong, do not hesitate. Everything done here is for him. Do not let him down, do not fail again.


	3. Chapter 3

He hated having to leave Fives, but he wasn’t given a choice. A quick goodbye and a promise to see him soon was all he had time to say before he was whisked back into the medbay. Into the surgical ward. Rex had to hide shivers, and still does now as he sits on the table they call a bed. He silently watches the Kaminoans talking amongst themselves, pointing to hypos and scalpels and all other sorts of medical equipment Rex couldn’t even name.

He stays silent as one of them approaches him with a hypo, promising that they just want to run a standard test for now. He doesn’t trust them, but he’s motionless as they press the needle into his neck and he falls into darkness, falling and falling and falling.

He wakes up on his back, still in darkness. A thick mist wraps around him, stuck to him as he clambers to his feet. He finds an odd sort of tree and clings onto it, waiting for his eyes to adjust. Once he can start to make out the outline of the gnarled forest he’s in, his body lurches forwards and he starts to walk through the brush. He doesn’t know where he’s going or why he even decided to move, but now that he’s walking, there’s no turning back.

He lets his body guide him as he looks through the mist, hoping to find a familiar face or a stark set of armour. There’s nothing, even as he walks on for hours. Absolutely nothing except him, alone in this strange world. Until he sees the tower. He starts to shake, but he still walks towards it. His mind is screaming at him to turn and run as far away as he can, but his body won’t listen to him. He reaches the launchpads around the tower before he even realises it, and he wants to throw up as soon as he sees what’s in front of him.

Bodies. So many bodies. An entire company, laid waste. His men, his  _ brothers _ , with blaster holes riddling their bodies and sliced to pieces. The wounds still glow dimly from the heat of plasma and forced cauterising of a lightsaber, thin wisps of smoke rising from them. There’s a huge puddle of blood surrounding all of them, slowly oozing outwards. He looks down, immediately regretting it as he sees his white boots being dyed a dark red from the blood he’s standing in.

He starts to hear voices, quiet whispers at first, but they start to grow louder and louder. He looks back up, greeted by the ghosts of his brothers. They’re hurt, betrayed, and all casting their accusing glares at him. He wants to reach out and apologise, but he’s frozen as familiar voices start to snarl at him.

“Why didn’t you listen to me? You  _ knew _ this was wrong, yet you didn’t listen.”

“So many were killed because of you. And all I could do was ease their suffering…”

“I did what was right, and yet you still held the court martial.”

“I gave my life for a coward!” Rex drops to his knees as more voices join them, all pointing their fingers and blaming him because really, who else could be to blame for their deaths if not their captain?

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” he finally chokes out.

“Sorry won’t bring Hardcase back, will it?” He can feel his throat constricting and burning as he holds back the tears. What else can he say? What else can he  _ do? _

He feels the ghosts wrap around him, refusing to leave him be. He doesn’t have the energy to push them away, and he’s not sure he even wants to. He can’t push away his brothers, not when he’s already betrayed them more times than he can count.

They go quiet as a dark bulky figure approaches him, still whispering in his ear, but quiet enough that he can still hear the deep rumble of the monster’s voice. He wishes more than anything that they would keep talking to him to drown out the monster.

“Thank you, captain. Your loyalty has been most helpful.”

“No…” he whispers, but the warped Jedi doesn’t hear him.

“Look at what you’ve done, at what you’ve helped make a reality. You should be proud. You were a good soldier. You followed orders.”

“NO!” He snaps up, blinded by the bright lights of the surgical ward. He’s panting, shaking violently as Kaminoans murmur and jot down notes. And then he starts to sob hysterically. He can’t stop himself, even as he curls up and tries to smother himself in his clothes. When he closes his eyes, he sees that monster, that horrible place, the faces of brothers dead by his hands, and he cries even more.

_ Stop it! Look at what you’re doing, you’re going to get reconditioned. Stop it! _ But he can’t. He really does try. He takes deep breaths, keeps his eyes open so he doesn’t have to see his nightmare anymore, wipes away tears and hugs himself to constrict the cries, but it hardly works. He’s still a sobbing mess, a perfect example of defectiveness for the Kaminoans.

He listens through muffled and slowly quieting sobs to them, discussing him and all his faults; discussing what needs to be fixed and what should simply be cut away. Maybe they’ll just recondition him. A small part of his mind doesn’t care; it would mean he doesn’t have to relive the nine hells he’s been through. He immediately scolds himself, disgusted he could even consider that. He can’t forget his brothers. He can’t forget them.

And he could never forget Cody. He’d do anything to keep the memories of all the stupid things he got dragged into because of Cody, the nights drinking at 79’s, their open conversations in their offices, even the fights and hurtful words yelled at each other when they were at their wit’s end. Anything to see Cody’s smile, and hear him laugh as Rex tells him about the 501st’s most recent misadventures. Anything, just to see his closest brother again.

He wipes away the tears as a doctor approaches him, thankful that he finally stopped crying. He sits up as straight as possible, looking dead ahead when the doctor stops in front of him. He feels the eyes probing him, but he’s pulled himself together. He shoves down all the fear and sorrow, storing it for another time when he can safely let it out.

“That was very insightful for us, CT-7567. Your next test will be twenty four hours from now. You can trust that to be your schedule for the foreseeable future.” He nods.

“What about training, sir?” The Kaminoan is taken aback. Rex immediately regrets asking, fear carving out space in his stomach. He shivers ever so slightly when he hears her hum thoughtfully before answering.

“We will have you train with other officer cadets your age. You won’t have any batch specific training, as we can’t disturb their routine, but we can make up for that by putting you in ARC command training two years earlier.”

“Thank you, sir.” He can’t help but feel relieved. He knows he spoke out of term, something that easily could have gotten him a stern talking to on a good day when he was a cadet, but they didn’t do anything. He was spared. It makes his mind swirl in confusion because he was so certain they couldn’t stand defectiveness, and yet they keep him around.  _ It’s for testing. You’re not lucky, just a lab rat _ . Still, he feels an odd and twisted sense of gratefulness. He will live.

He walks back to his room, his eyes starting to blur until he reaches the door. He’s greeted by a happily bouncing Fives, who cheers and wraps him up in a hug. At least he’s still here. Rex can work to make things right again. He can make up for Umbara, for the citadel, for all the times he’s done something wrong by his men. He can learn, and he’ll do better by them. And he can start by making things right by the little cadet in his arms.


	4. Chapter 4

He doesn’t know if he can face him. Decades of guilt and shame weigh heavy on his shoulders, dragging him down into the floor. He feels like he’s been standing outside the door for hours, but it’s probably only been seconds. His hand is hovering over the keypad. All he has to do is press some buttons, he should be more than capable of doing that; yet here he is, unable to move.

Everything should be fine. The Senate, or rather the shambles left in its place, and the Jedi Council realised that the inhibitor chips weren’t what the Kaminoans said they were; they were removed from every clone before they could go back to their generals. He absentmindedly rubs the new scar as he stands before the door. He doesn’t have to worry about that sudden anger at the thought of betrayal from his general or shooting a ‘traitor’. Still, he’s terrified. He can’t forgive himself, so how could his general forgive him?

He’s not sure what gets him to finally key in the code to open the door, but he does it and takes a hesitant step inside. The door shuts silently behind him, and he can’t help but feel trapped even though he knows there isn’t any danger. The figure further in the room is cloaked by a dark brown robe, hood pulled over his head in a way that reminds him too much of mourning. But, when the man turns, the faintest hint of a smile crosses his face.

“Cody… I was wondering when I would get to see you again.”

“Sir.” Obi-Wan closes the distance between them, putting a hand on Cody’s shoulder.

“I’ve heard what really happened to you and your brothers. I’m sorry you had to go through that, and that we couldn’t help you. It can’t have been easy.”

“I’d imagine it was much harder for you, sir.” The Jedi hums thoughtfully.

“Perhaps.” Cody winces. Of course it was worse for the Jedi. They were hunted mercilessly by him and his brothers while the chip still controlled them, told them to find who they believed were the enemy. “Now, though, we have time to fix what that sith had destroyed, and time to rebuild our trust. It will not be easy, but I know that you regret what’s happened. So do I. I want to be back on friendly terms with you, Cody.”

“I wish the same, sir.” His voice is much more hoarse than he would want it to be, but he can’t control that. He watches Kenobi’s eyes soften just a little with sympathy.

“Well then, commander, let’s get to work on that.” Cody nods, and Obi-Wan backs up a little, a smirk glancing across his face. “Come now. We have to meet Anakin. I’m sure that will be quite an adventure.” Cody smiles back, and turns to follow his general out of the room.

They walk down the halls of the  _ Negotiator _ , clones parting for them as they make their way to the briefing room. It’s oddly quiet for a busy ship; his brothers are probably scared out of their minds to be around a jedi again. He wonders if his general can sense their fear and not misjudge it as a wish for violence.

“Uh, general?” Cody asks, trying to find a distraction for himself.

“Mmm?”

“Are all other officers back with their generals?”

“Yes. They were the first to come back, actually. Why?”

“I was just curious, sir.” So he  _ will _ be able to see Rex again. He feels relieved. Worried, but relieved. He’s been dying to see his brother again and just talk. It’s all he’s wanted for decades.

They enter the briefing room to see Anakin pacing back and forth. Kenobi clears his throat, and Skywalker looks up. He looks the same as he did before the Empire, before everything and everyone Cody loved was washed away. He’s not sure how to feel about looking at the former dark lord. Confusion, hatred, and fear swirl together just at being in the same room as the, quite frankly, unstable man, but he keeps that to himself. Instead, he looks around the room, searching for the familiar 501st blue and white. His stomach drops when he fails to find the familiar paint and pattern.

“Anakin, what’s the matter?”

“I was waiting for you. Where’s Rex?”

“What do you mean ‘where’s Rex’? He should be with you.” Cody feels his body grow cold. He starts to dive into all the possibilities, each getting worse than the last.

“I thought if he wasn’t on the  _ Resolute _ , he’d be on the  _ Negotiator _ with Cody.”

“He’s not anywhere here. He should have been reassigned to you.”

“Well, he’s not!”

“Have you checked the GAR records?” Both Jedi turn to him. He takes a quick breath and steadies himself. He knows panic won’t give him answers. “If you can’t find him physically, a quick search in the records should show where he is.”

“Of course…” Skywalker mutters. He quickly goes up to a computer, pulling up the records. “Uh, what’s his designation? CC-57… something something?”

“CT-7567.”

“Oh.” Skywalker quickly types in his brother’s designation and lets the computer file through the records. They wait for what Cody is sure is an eternity before the computer is done. He looks blankly at the empty screen with only a few words written in the center.  _ This unit does not exist _ . Does not exist. The words echo around in Cody’s head, hammering into his mind. He can’t look away from the screen. Skywalker reloads it again and again, growing more and more frustrated every time that message pops back up.

“DAMN IT!” Skywalker smashes his robotic arm into the computer in a show of violent emotion, destroying the hardware as his astromech beeps sadly. Cody watches as Kenobi silently steels himself before going to comfort his former padawan. He knows that Skywalker’s emotions are much more volatile than his own, but Cody can’t help but feel hurt and empty as his general has his back turned towards him when moments ago he had reached out for friendship.

Rex, gone. That doesn’t seem right. That  _ can’t  _ be right. And yet, it doesn’t sound false. Cody knows the Kaminoans haven’t liked Rex since their last training mission. Still, it seems impossible that they would just decommission him because of a personal grudge. He’s a good captain, a good  _ person _ . They couldn’t just get rid of him. They  _ couldn’t _ .

“Cody?”

“Mm?” He looks up to see his general looking back at him now, with Skywalker safely slumped in a chair talking to R2. Worry and compassion mix in his face as he tries to figure out just what Cody feels.

“Are you alright?” He’s genuine, Cody is sure of that, and a little part of his mind wants to say no, but he can’t tell his general about the anguish that’s starting to squeeze him. It would go against all his training, and it certainly wouldn’t be appropriate. Not now especially, but it would have been wrong even before the Order. He would go to Rex when he felt like this, but there’s no Rex to turn to now. He just has to soldier through it until he finds  _ some _ way to deal with this.

“I’m… I’ll be alright, general,” he chokes out. It’s the best he can offer. The warm hand comes back on his shoulder, and the deep sadness starts to dull.  _ Must be the Force _ Cody muses to himself.

“Maybe it would be best if you took some time to rest now.”

“Sir, I-”

“Rest, Cody. Strategy can wait.” He nods, and leaves the two Jedi to go back to his quarters. He walks as quickly as he can, nearly running down the halls and practically pushing past soldiers. He ignores the odd looks and slips into his room, locking the door as it hisses shut behind him. He leans against a wall, sinking down until he’s sitting with his head in his hands.

He doesn’t cry, even though he’s sure he should. He feels like his body is too heavy, crushing the breath out of his own lungs. His mind is swirling too fast for him to even understand any of the thoughts going through his head until it hits into a boulder.  _ This unit does not exist, this unit does not exist _ . Rex does not exist.

_ Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la _ . Not gone, merely marching far away. Cody had said this as reassurance to his other brothers, but he never thought he’d have to say this to himself. He never really thought about losing someone so close to him, he had pushed it as far from his conscious mind as possible, but now he’s faced with that reality.

He will cope. He  _ has _ to. He will learn to live without his chosen brother because he is a commander and he has to lead his men. He has to keep up his reputation and be responsible for his men, no matter how upset he might be.

Now, though, he is not a commander. In these few more minutes he has in his quarters before he has to go back out and face his everyone, he is just Cody, and he will let himself grieve.

_ Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum _ .


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used a line from One of a Million by raemanzu and spica_tea. I really loved the line and I just couldn't find any better words for what I was trying to convey. I know it's probably not important, but I'd rather give credit for creative writing where it's due.
> 
> Here's the line, if you're curious, and it's from the fourth chapter of their fic:  
> “You have to conduct yourself in a way deserving of your rank,” Rex continued in that low, insistent tone. “If you wanna make Fox eat his words… become the best, even despite this mistake.”
> 
> Check out their work, it's what inspired me to write this fic and create this series.

“Sir, that’s too risky. We should…” Cody has already tuned him out. For being a 501st trooper, Appo is too cautious. Cody can already tell General Skywalker is itching to throw Appo out and continue with his idea anyways. He’s been through all of the other commanding officers in the 501st in the past year, but none have lasted longer than one standard month. Even Jesse didn’t last, which surprised everyone considering he seemed to have been the best fit.

“Appo, perhaps you should let Skywalker go through with his plan. It  _ will _ work,” Kenobi says, breaking into Appo’s monologue on the dangers of using jetpacks in a closed space.

“I agree with General Kenobi,” Cody adds when he sees Appo open his mouth to protest. “His plans are… unorthodox, but they are successful.”  _ Mostly _ he thinks to himself. He still remembers fuming after the landing at Point Rain, when Rex had told him about Skywalker’s little ‘Force trick’. Luck was on Skywalker’s side that campaign because Cody never had the chance to yell at him for throwing his brother like a ragdoll.  _ Unorthodox _ he scoffs.  _ More like absolute insanity _ .

The meeting closes without much commotion. Cody tries to slip away to his quarters for, in his opinion, a well deserved drink, but Kenobi holds onto his arm and stops him. He turns to face his general, and is shocked by the oddly worried yet calm expression he’s wearing.

“Cody, I was wondering if you would like to have some tea with me.”

“I’m fine, general.”

“You’ve been under a lot of stress. Come, it will be nice. You can drop your worries for a bit.”

“Sir, I-”

“Please, Cody?” He never heard his general ask him like that before. He often just let it drop. This wasn’t an offer, it was an order hidden behind politeness.

“Yes, sir.” There’s a tiny sliver of a smile on his general’s face as he leads Cody to his quarters. It wasn’t fair for Kenobi to do this to him, to pretend Cody had a choice when he didn’t, but wasn’t that the way it had always been for clones? Given individuality, yet not allowed to express it. It’s a crushing weight all of them have to bear.

Kenobi opens the door and gently pushes Cody in first. He points to a small cushion on the floor, and Cody sits down. He watches silently as Kenobi prepares tea for them, the silent minutes digging into Cody and starting to drive him crazy.

“I’m sorry. I know I should have just told you to come here. I was hoping you would be more willing.”

“It’s alright, sir.”

“Obi-Wan, while we’re here.”

“Right, si- Obi-Wan.” It feels wrong to say. He isn’t very close to his general. Not as close as Obi-Wan seems to think. He doesn’t really want to be here either. He would rather be in his own quarters with the bottle of whiskey he managed to snag from some other troopers.

Obi-Wan walks over, handing a lightly steaming cup to Cody before taking a seat across from him. The cup warms his hands, and it smells flowery. He still refuses to take a sip, even as Obi-Wan does.

“How are you, Cody?” The question catches him off guard. He looks up; his general seems fine, serene even.

“I’m alright.” He doesn’t miss the questioning glance Obi-Wan gives him, he just chooses to ignore it. He’ll sit this out then lock himself in his room before the mission, maybe even get that drink he knows he deserves. He can handle his alcohol fine, despite what Helix says. “How about you?”

“I’m quite alright as well. A little worried about how Appo will handle working with Anakin, I must admit, but I suppose we will just have to wait and see what happens.”

“That makes two of us.” Obi-Wan hums in agreement. They sit in silence for what Cody is sure is an eternity. He still refuses to even bring the cup in his hands to his lips. He knows his general is waiting to spring a heavier and darker question Cody would rather not answer.

“Cody, I can’t help but notice that you don’t exactly seem to be present all the time in your thoughts. Your mind wanders often.” Cody goes stiff, if only a small amount.

“Are you reading my thoughts, sir?”

“No. That isn’t something the Force can allow someone to do. But, I can sense that you are distracted. Distressed.” He bites the inside of his cheek. “Cody, have you talked to anyone about what happened?”

“The person I would tell is dead,” he replies bitterly. Obi-Wan’s face softens.

“So you’ve been keeping this to yourself?” The concern makes Cody sick to his stomach. He never asked for this. He never asked to be interrogated on how he handles the consuming grief he feels at the loss of a brother,  _ his _ brother.

“As I said before, the person I would tell is dead. My batchmates are scattered across the galaxy, and I still haven’t seen them. So, with all due respect sir, there was, and still is, no one for me to talk to about this. Considering the circumstances, I have been handling this rather well.” The pause before Obi-Wan speaks tears Cody apart. He swears he can feel the hesitation and pity coming off the general in waves. It makes Cody want to crawl into a little hole and die. He can’t stand this.

“I care about you, Cody. That’s why I feel I have to tell you that what’s happening, what you’re doing to yourself, isn’t alright. I see the path you are going down, and I don’t want to watch you spiral down further. No one does.” He squeezes the cup. He doesn’t really care if it breaks, he just wants to leave. He doesn’t want to hear this. “The 212th is worried too.”

“I know sir.” Damn if they haven’t been making that obvious. Helix keeps on telling him to ‘put down the kriffing glass sir and drink some water instead.’ Waxer and Boil have been actively hiding their stash of sunberry wine and urging others in the battalion to do the same with their alcohol. They’ve all been saying they can take on extra work if needed, urging him to rest and let them handle things for a bit. He can’t rest, though. Resting means thinking, and thinking means Rex and death and loneliness. If he rests, he drinks, and if he doesn’t drink, he’s working. Anything to not think.

“So why continue? Why drag yourself down further?” Obi-Wan asks.

“I’m not dragging myself down, sir. I’m keeping myself afloat.” He waits for Obi-Wan to say something, but when he doesn’t, he continues. “I need this, sir. I… I  _ can’t _ … can’t…”

“It’s alright, Cody.”

“No it isn’t!” Obi-Wan flinches, and a small pang of guilt shoots through Cody. He speaks again, his voice barely above a whisper. “It isn’t, sir. It’s not okay.  _ I’m _ not okay. Is that what you wanted me to say?”

“Do you believe what you said?”

“What?”

“Do you believe yourself? That you aren’t alright? Or did you say that to keep me quiet?” There isn’t any anger in Obi-Wan’s voice, no accusations, just genuine curiosity and concern. Cody feels his throat tighten as the weight of his words sinks in. He was angry, he snapped, but he didn’t lie to shut up his general. His head is a whirl of frustration and despair. He should be more put together than this, he shouldn’t be letting his emotions get the better of him,  _ especially _ in front of his general.

His general. Does he even get to call him that? He should have lost that privilege when he shot him down without a second thought. And yet he’s here with Kenobi while Rex is dead. Rex, who put his brothers before himself and would try to take the fall for  _ their _ mistakes. Cody couldn’t wrap his head around it, still can’t.

A deep shame starts to settle in him when he realises just how broken he is, and how  _ obvious _ it is for everyone around him. He’s a commander, a marshal commander at that! He should know better by now. He should  _ act _ better by now. Rex would be so disappointed to see him floundering like this. His words echo in his head, far away yet hauntingly close.

_ “You have to conduct yourself in a way deserving of your rank. If you wanna make Fox eat his words… become the best, even despite this mistake.” _

He had worked so hard at doing that ever since Rex had told him. And he was right in the end; Fox did eat his words because Cody was the highest ranking clone in the entire GAR and he was damn good at his job. But now, he had let that slip away from him. He was losing himself to this deep sorrow that had plagued him for a year now and had refused to tell anyone about, instead creating a constant stream of excuses for himself.

“I don’t know what to do, sir…” he manages to whisper. He can feel the compassion from Kenobi, but he doesn’t want his general right now. He wants a friend, a brother. Nova, or Steel, any of his batchmates, really. But they’re all far away, serving their generals. The loneliness is suffocating, constricting around his chest and throat and refusing to let him even get a full breath.

“I am truly sorry. Loss is never an easy thing to cope with, especially alone.”

“It’s alright, sir… I… I should have asked, or gone to a brother.”

“You cannot blame yourself for the actions you take while grieving, Cody. All we can do now is mourn the lost and move forwards in their honour.”

“Right, sir…” There’s a soft sigh from Obi-Wan as he places his hand on Cody’s shoulder.

“You should take some time to rest. Gain back some strength before this campaign.”

“Of course.”

“I’ll see you soon, Cody. I hope your mind will be in a better place.”

“I hope so too, sir.” He pushes himself to his feet, nodding to Kenobi before he leaves. He feels like his head is stuffed with cotton, and everything feels far away. The hallways of the venator seem to stretch on for ages, and everything has a surreal tinge to it. He feels like he doesn’t exist.

He snaps back to himself when he enters his quarters, the door closing behind him. He wanders over to his bunk, dropping down with a soft thud. He buries his head in his hands, rubbing the sudden fatigue from his face. He instinctively reaches for the bottle he’s hidden behind his bunk, but hesitates when it’s in his hand. He looks down at the amber liquid, shifting the bottle in his hand and watching as it sloshes around.

_ I can’t do this. _ It’s such a simple thought, he’s taken aback by it. It settles in his mind, fighting for a spot with it’s identical yet polar opposite counterpart. He can’t keep on drinking like this. He can’t keep drowning himself and hoping that will fill the emptiness he feels whenever he so much as looks at the colour blue. It hasn’t worked in the past year; hells, he’s worse off now than he was when he first saw that screen. This hasn’t helped him in the slightest.  _ But it feels so much better than the emptiness. _

He sighs and gets up to place the bottle on his desk. He feels a deep shame, looking at the nearly empty bottle, shining with the little bit of light kept permanently on in his small room. He wants to shove it away, throw it at a wall and watch it smash into a million different pieces. But a marshal commander doesn’t lose himself like that. He’ll dispose of it later. Once he’s headed down to the hangar bay.

For now, he opens the door to his private refresher and steps in, a luxury for command clones. He grasps the edge of the sink and leans over it, splashing cool water on his face before looking into the mirror. It’s a terrible sight, for him at least. His normally clean shaven face is dark with stubble, his hair is an absolute mess despite it being so short, and his eyes are hazy. He looks wretched. When did he get like this?

He rubs shaving gel on his face, silently relishing each stroke of his razor as he gets rid of the messy stubble. Another quick splash with water rinses off the remaining gel, and he dries off his face with a towel. He quickly combs his hair so that it doesn’t look like he just got out of bed, and a quick glance in the mirror shows how much better he looks already. It doesn’t match how he feels inside, but it’s better to look presentable than have everyone question your ability to lead because you can’t even take care of yourself.

He goes back to his room, taking the small bit of time he has left to fix his bunk. He then goes to the desk, the bottle staring at him as he organises the datapads and flimsi covering every inch of his workspace. He tries to ignore the bottle, tries to force it’s luring appeal out of his mind as he creates neat stacks from the mess.

He picks it up when he’s done, holding it in his hands and staring down at the alcohol within with a desire that’s tugging at his very soul. _ Just one sip _ , he thinks,  _ I can have just one sip. For putting up with Skywalker. _ And he puts the bottle to his lips, waiting for the familiar tingle of the whiskey, but it never comes. He’s frozen with the bottle at his lips and all of the alcohol still pooled at the bottom. His mind starts to fall apart.

_ Drink it, drink it, tip it back and drink it. Forget it all, this helps. What would Rex think? What would he say to you? How disappointed would he be that his big brother can’t keep it together? What does it matter, he’s dead now anyways. Drink it, don’t, escape, stay here, just leave and forget it all, you’re no good as a commander anymore. But my men need me. I need to lead them. But look at you, a failure. But no one else can lead them. Who else will lead them when you disappear into the galaxy, a deserter, a disgrace? Stay, put it down, and stay. _

The bottle shakes as it’s placed back on the desk, and Cody braces himself on the firm, steady surface. His head is bent, silent tears from a year of suppressed cries slipping down his face and landing softly on the desk. He takes a deep breath, shaking with the effort of not collapsing right there, and wipes away the stray tears.

Pushing himself away from the desk, he grabs his bucket and pulls it on over his head, sighing as the HUD starts up. A shield from the galaxy around him, a comfort he never forgets. He takes just a few more deep breaths, enough to make sure he isn’t shaking, and he quickly grabs the bottle and throws it down the garbage chute. He can’t have it there, tempting him. A marshal commander doesn’t need to have a constant reminder of failure, just a resolve to do better.

He steps out of his room into the hallway bustling with his brothers, quickly making his way to the hangar bay. He’s greeted by troops painted with blue and gold. For once, he doesn’t flinch at the colours, instead finding Kenobi and locking on his gaze. A smile graces the Jedi’s face.

“Commander, just in time.”

“As always, sir.”


End file.
